Catching Her
by Cehsja
Summary: My version of what happened after Richard took off chasing Camille across the beach. Prompt by SveaR. Oneshot


"Where do you think _they're_ going?" Dwayne asked Fidel as he watched Camille suddenly take off across the beach with Richard in hot pursuit.

"That's up to Camille at the moment. Depends where she leads him, I'd say."

"Think he can catch her?"

Fidel gave his partner a puzzled look. "No! 'Course not. In _that_ suit? In those _shoes?_ Look at him! Besides, she's been raised running across the beaches and_ he_ won't even get his toes wet. He doesn't have a chance. He'll be winded in no time."

"Wanna bet on it?"

"Pfft! Yes, I do! You _really _think he can catch her?"

"I just think there're other factors at play here over the ones that you named."

"Like what?"

"Well, stubbornness for one. The chief is less likely to be willing to admit defeat. And then there's determination and motive. Camille is just running for running's sake, but _he_ has a reason to be chasing after her. I'd say the outcome of this chase depends partially on how badly he wants her to change his TV channels back to English. And last, but possibly most importantly there's curiosity, on her part; she's not gonna lead him until he sulkily gives up and goes back home on his own. She wants to know what he'll actually _do_ to make her change the channels back. She'll slow down and let him catch her, eventually."

"Hmmm, you know what Dwayne? You just might be right."

* * *

Camille giggled with glee as Richard chased her right up to the edge of the water this time, coming close enough that she knew the waves must be splashing his polished shoes just a little bit. She hoped they got ruined, because that would mean he'd loosened up enough to not worry about ridiculous things like dress shoes on a Caribbean beach. Or angry enough, she supposed, but she heard the hidden merriment beneath his shouts and orders and she _knew _he was having fun too.

"Sargeant Bordey, I _order _you to return here at _once _and fix my telly, which you have tampered with and vandalized, both of which are criminal!"

Camille grinned at him from where she danced in the surf a few feet beyond his reach if he didn't want to get his feet wet. "Oh? And what're you gonna do? Arrest me?"

"I might have to."

"Ha!" she laughed in his face. "And I fixed it!"

"Fixed?"

"The telly. It was all very English, you know. It works well now. If you're gonna live here, you might as well learn French, _oui?"_

"Why in heaven's name would I ever want to do that?"

"Maybe an important suspect only speaks French."

"That's what you're for."

"Well maybe I'm not there and you overhear an important conversation between two French speaking suspects and…"

"Camille," he interrupted her, his voice serious, but his eyes held a tell-tale teasing glint that she'd come to learn meant he didn't mean what he was about to say. Sarcasm he called his sense of humour. "Camille, I don't really think I need to worry about that; the_ French_ never have anything important to say."

Her reflexes were faster than his and the words were hardly out of his mouth before she had reached down and sent a large splash of water his way. Only half her created wave hit its target, but it was still enough to soak his shirt and the waist band of his trousers. _"Vous etes impossible!" _she announced before darting away again across the beach.

"Camille!" he roared, and for a moment he considered turning back, leaving her to childishly run across the sand on her own while he went to change into dry clothing and enjoy the peace of his own bungalow. And then he changed his mind as two thoughts suddenly occurred to him at once. The first was that he really, _really, _wanted to win this time. The second was that this crazy coworker of his might actually be disappointed, hurt even, if he left. _Why,_ he couldn't fathom, but he had a niggling that it was true and Richard's instincts were usually correct.

He bellowed out her name again and took off after her.

* * *

Camille gave a shout, half in surprise,and half in triumphant glee, that he was still giving her chase. She hadn't really expected him to, but it definitely made her happy. Her heart rate sped up from pure exhilaration rather than from the race across the sand and she knew that was the cause of it. She also knew it wouldn't have been the same if it'd been Fidel or Dwayne chasing after her instead. She slowed down to let him get a bit closer, a grin on her face as he darted forward, making a grab for her, but unable to reach her still.

"Camille," his voice was warning now.

Her eyes sparkled at him as she took off again, leading him further this time, with a glance back every few seconds to make sure he was following. She wondered how long he'd play her game for. And then she suddenly wondered what would happen if he caught her. An idea occurred to her and she stopped again, close enough that he could reach her, _if _he stretched as far as he could, which would throw his balance off considerably and she knew it. And despite his perfectionism, Richard did _not _have the best balance to begin with.

Sure enough, he fell into her trap, reaching out to grab her wrist with a triumphant, "Ha!" The moment he caught her she stepped dropped back down til she was sitting on her heels in the warm Caribbean blue water. He stumbled and fell forward, knocking her further down into the water as he landed almost on top of her in the soft wet sand beneath the shallow sea. She giggled as he sat up again hastily, using her knee to balance himself as he spluttered in shock, but she also braced himself for his coming rage. She could take it; it was worth it.

He stared at her a few moments, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but the words just weren't coming out. Then suddenly he pulled her wrist, which he still clung to, up out of the water they sat in, holding it in the air. "Ha!" he repeated. "I win!"

It was Camille's turn to feel speechless for a moment, surprised he wasn't yelling at her, and she could see by the way that his triumphant smile grew, he knew she was shocked. She couldn't have that smug expression on his face for too long though, and she recovered quickly. "Okay, you got me."

"Yeah," he gave her a half smile that suddenly changed into a perplexed frown, his grip on her wrist tightening. She knew what the problem was, she knew that _he _didn't know what to do next. "That- that means you have to switch my channels back, right?" he half-ordered, half-questioned.

She smiled at him, her eyes laughing. "Well, maybe I might think about it. I don't remember deciding on anything like _that,_ do you?"

They were still sitting side-by-side submerged in the shallow blue, facing each other. Camille drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping the hand that he wasn't holding onto around them, as if she had no intention of moving anywhere or getting out of the water until he gave her a good reason why she should.

He subconsciously mimicked her, drawing his knees up a bit too, his officially ruined loafers sinking into the mucky sand as though it was sucking his feet into place so he'd not be able to move again. "Now that isn't quite fair, Camille," he told her. "While we may not have had a, er, verbal contract of any kind, we both know that, under the circumstances, that the general rules of fair play would mean you need to reverse the damage done to my television at this point, due to the establishment of my authority as shown by the fact that I did indeed, catch you."

"I let you."

He saw the honesty in her eyes, but just shook his head at her, "You may very well believe that to be true, Sargeant Borday, but the truth really lies in the way I wordlessly manipulated you into giving yourself up for ensnarement by making you _want _to be captured."

She gaped at him, unsure how to argue that point. Finally she asked, "And _why _would I want that?"

"Because deep down, you really _want _to change my channels back. You secretly realise that the French channels can never be held to the same par as the English ones."

She giggled, "DI you may be, and you may have _something _figured out, but it's not the motive, that's for sure."

"Alright, Camille, you tell me your motive."

"I have no motive for changing you channels back to English, therefore, I probably won't do it."

"As your commanding officer, I order you to do so."

"Then you're gonna have to give me a motive, aren't you."

"I rather hoped that a direct command from your superior would be motive enough."

She tilted her head, biting down on her lip, as if considering the idea. She _was _considering the matter, but she wasn't going to give in quite that easily. She planned to bribe him, maybe get him to agree to inviting her in for a movie and drinks, promising only to undo the channel thing if he agreed… but then suddenly, from nowhere, he interrupted her thoughts.

"You're beautiful."

She blinked at him, her mind taking its time to register the words because they were just so, so, un-Richard-like. "What?"

He flushed then, becoming instantly flustered, "Sorry, that was – inappropriate. Sorta slipped out on its own. Must be all this blasted water making my brain go soggy. Why the hell are we sitting in the sea anyways? If I believed in that sort of thing I'd say you must have bewitched me, as I clearly would never think this was a good idea on my own."

He suddenly seemed to notice he was still holding onto her wrist and he dropped it, moving quickly to stand up. She followed suit and caught his hand as she did, a grin on her face. "But you_ don't_ believe in that sort of thing, which concludes that maybe you _did _think it was a good idea on your own after all." He looked at her hand on his and shot her a puzzled glance. She continued, "Also, I didn't think it inappropriate at all. No need to apologize."

A look of relief passed over his features, "No? Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, provided you meant it."

"Wouldn't have said it if I didn't," he nodded, his fingers curling around hers tentatively as they began to walk back.

There was silence between them for a bit but suddenly he shot her a sideways glance and asked hesitantly, "Well, what was the verdict? About the TV channels, I mean."

Camille chuckled, "I'll change them back, if you let me stay and watch something with you, my choice."

"Is that liming?"

She shook her head, "Well, no, not really. Closer to a date, really."

His mouth dropped open and she wondered if he'd scold her for being inappropriate, but then he just shut it and nodded then, "Fine, but one of these days, I'm_ gonna_ figure out what the word means."

* * *

"Here they come, Fidel!" Dwayne called over his shoulder as they looked across the beach towards the sea from his post on Richard's porch. "Looks like I was right!"

"Oh?"

"They're both dripping wet and holding hands!"

Fidel came out of the house and nodded defeat. "Guess I owe you a beer then."

"You sure do, and I say we head to Catherine's pub right now. Gives them a bit of alone time."

"You just wanna be the first to tell Camille's maman what she's up to."

Dwayne shrugged. "So you coming?"

Fidel nodded, "Yeah, man, of course."


End file.
